


That's What People DO

by NotALemon



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Casual Sex, From Sex to Love, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Moriarty is gay, POV Jim Moriarty, Past Relationship(s), there's no smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-20
Updated: 2016-07-20
Packaged: 2018-07-25 13:37:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7534765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotALemon/pseuds/NotALemon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"People have died!"<br/>"That's what people DO!"</p>
<p>You had someone who loved you. And he loved you back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That's What People DO

_“People have died.”_  
_“That’s what people DO!”_  


He didn’t _know_. Of course he couldn’t. He _couldn’t_ know.  


It was just a shag. It was a _mistake_. It wasn’t supposed to mean anything. It wasn’t supposed to become… whatever it had been. But it did.  


Like most mistakes, it started out innocent. As innocent as a shag with your employee can be. It was going to be quick. Sub-par. Not a normal thing, like weekends or murders. And then it wasn’t.  


In your defense, it was a good shag. He asked if you could do it again, and how could you say no to that? It was just _sex_. Not a big deal. You get there, you shag, you leave. No aftercare. No kisses. No _love_.  


The first few times, it was just shagging. Good shagging, but shagging nevertheless.  


Until it wasn’t.  


You weren’t sure when it happened. When your thoughts went to him instead of your work. At first, it was things you wanted to try with him. Then they started to get sweeter.  


You’d wonder what it was like to kiss him. Whether they’d be soft or not. They looked rough. Rugged. Like his body was. You wanted to hold his calloused hands. They’d dwarf your tiny hands. Everything about him dwarfed you and you kind of liked it.  


When you caught yourself thinking about it, you’d shake it off. It hadn’t happened with any of your other shags, but you hoped it was just because he was handsome.  


He was just as surprised as you were when you first kissed him.  


It was sudden. He was getting dressed and got too close to you. You grabbed his collar and brought him to you. And you were right- his lips were rough.  


He stared at you with wide eyes. You had to hide your surprise.  


“Don’t you have places to _be_?” You’d asked him after looking into his eyes for way too long. He nodded and continued dressing. Neither of you mentioned it.  


The next few times were normal until you held his hand. He didn’t say anything to you. You didn’t say anything to him. You just held his hand for a few seconds before you kissed it and let go. There was no eye contact for a week or so.  


Things kept going and you both started to get more comfortable with everything. You’d kiss his forehead sometimes. He’d fix your tie. The two of you tried to keep it casual. You really did.  


Once, he crossed a line. He asked for something you told him you wouldn’t give.  


“Psychopaths don’t _spoon_.” You snarled at him. He looked down.  


“I know you said you wouldn’t. But…”  


You glared at him. “ _‘But’_?”  


“You said that about kissing.”  


He had a point. You hated to admit it, of course. He wasn’t supposed to make points. He was supposed to be a shag, dammit.  


You stood cold. “Do you have the _authority_ to say that?”  


He shook his head.  


“Then, if I were you, I’d wish I was _someone else_. Leave.” You stared him down the entire time he left. After he did, you collapsed on the bed. It shouldn’t be that way. You shouldn’t want to listen to him. You were the one in charge. Not him. You.  


And it only got worse.  


Longer touches. Softer kisses.  


He saw the change, and it seemed like he liked it. He certainly didn’t seem to mind it. Leaning into the touches and kissing back. Either he was playing along or he liked it. You hoped against your better judgement that it was the latter.  


The point when your feelings became obvious was when you _did_ spoon.  


You, of course, were the big spoon. He didn’t mind.  


After a while of silence, he decided to speak up. “Boss?”  


“Yes.”  


“I thought you said psychopaths don’t spoon.”  


You kept your face neutral. “It’s not much of a _rule_. More of a… _suggestion_.” You ghosted your hands down his sides.  


“You get to pick and choose which rules you get to follow?”  


“I _am_ in charge.” You set your jaw. “Are you _complaining_?”  


“No Boss. I’d never complain.” He could’ve been smiling for all you knew. It sounded like he was.  


“Good.” You laid in the comfortable silence together.  


If anyone asked you if you had fallen asleep like that (not that they should if they know what’s good for them), you would say no. They’d believe you because you’re a damn good liar.  


And if that person were stupid enough to ask you when the two of you started to go on dates, you’d have him shoot them.  


You did go on dates together. They were… sweet. Or something like that. You learnt all kinds of things about him and rewarded him with knowledge about yourself.  


He had been a Colonel in the military. You knew that, but he told much more interesting stories when he wasn’t being recruited. He had gunned down 11 tigers once. You were impressed by that one and started to affectionately call him “Tiger”. He would roll his eyes at you when you called him that, but he’d smile anyways.  


You’d hold hands with him proudly. Even in front of your other employees. They needed to know he was better than they were. They were just maggots. He was your tiger.  
_Was._  


There was something that went wrong. Terribly, terribly wrong. There are plenty of things that could kill a tiger. And there are only a handful of things that could kill _your_ tiger. One of them was a human.  


You made sure that bastard was killed in the most painful way possible. You had ordered this via text because you were in no position to speak to anyone. There was an image you had to keep up and you weren’t going to let one death mess it up. Even if it was the most important man in your life.  


There needed to be a distraction. Anything to take away from the feelings you weren’t ready to deal with. You found one soon after.  


He was named Sherlock Holmes.  


You’d had your eye on him for a while. He wasn’t your Tiger, but he was going to be _fun_ to play with.  


**Author's Note:**

> I could've updated something else. But no. I wrote this crime against humanity.


End file.
